Scribbles
by Spydersphinx
Summary: Kurt scribbles all his tiny, tiny thoughts into his diary. Then one day, he meets a charming young god in the form of Blaine, and his world is opened up in front of him like he's never seen it before...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox.**

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**Tuesday, November 9th , 2:56 pm, World History Classroom**

How dare he? HOW DARE HE?

I am absolutely fuming. One of these days, I swear, I will BURN Noah Puckerman. I will de-gut him like a fish, burn him and then bury his body in the sea. He does not deserve to grace this sorry planet with his faux bad ass presence. He doesn't.

I hate him.

I really do.

I must admit, though, he has gotten somewhat better over the past couple of months. But still. He has no right to just come up to my face, insult my feather boas and _order_ me to spy on the "Garglers".

That isn't even their name.

Idiot.

And he insulted my feather boas.

They are hurt. In fact, they might start molting, they are so _hurt_. Poor babies.

...

But then again...this might be my chance.

You see, my dear journal, before I decided to immerse myself in your lovely leather-bound smells and your _thrillingly_ crisp note paper, I may have googled Dalton Academy on my phone.

Yes, I am ashamed but I really had to see what this private school, this _all-boys_ private school was all about.

And it is _amazing_.

They have a zero-tolerance no bullying policy. Or is it no tolerance zero bullying? Ah whatever, either way it means that there are few to no homophobic dick heads in the school. And even if there were they'd have to keep there insults and glares and artificially colourful drinks to themselves.

And also, cute boys in uniform.

Yes. It's like heaven.

...Oh look, Mr. Saunders found his way to class! Oh isn't he smart? I wonder what he has decided to drone on about today.

It's amazing that he can pass for a history teacher when he blends quite well with all the freshmen, looking no older than the juniors in here.

….he's doing English history. Again?

Huh.

I'm not complaining. I know most of the history of the fair and lovely England. Which means I can continue in here.

So where was I?

Dalton, the heaven. Mmhmm that's right.

To spy, or not to spy? On the Warblers, I mean.

Spying will be helpful to new Directions though...and it doesn't hurt to spend a few minutes in the gay haven of Ohio, does it?

No, it doesn't.

And the truth is, this Karofsky thing is really getting out of hand.

And what hurts the most is how nobody seems to see the pain inside me, my fight is wearing thin and I don't think I can take the stress of it all anymore. I just need someone to notice that _no I'm not doing alright over here. _Mercedes and Tina and Quinn are all concerned but they really have no idea what to do.

I don't either.

What is _up_ with Karofsky anyway?

Why does he hate me? Because he's a homophobe? Because he's a homophobe and I'm gay? Because he's a homophobe who hates gay people like me who dress fabulously? Because he can't _stand_ that I'm out and proud of who I am?

Yes, we should only be allowed to be proud of strong, heterosexual men like Karofsky who are built like bulls and have skulls thicker than cavemen. We can't be proud if we are gay and love other gay people and have to live hell because of it.

Because it's wrong to love.

I pity the poor girl who ends up with the imbecile. Unless, she'd built like an Amazon warrior.

But if she was an Amazon warrior she wouldn't date him because they are like Artemis' hand maidens and swear to never be tempted by man.

See? I read.

Back to the topic.

Why else does he do this to me? Because I'm in Glee Club? Oh yeah, then, why on earth doesn't he stalk Artie huh? Or any of the girls? Why is he always just breathing down my neck, following me, staring at me from every corner of every freaking room, of every corridor?

WHY?

It's driving me insane.

I need a break.

I need a vacation in the tropics. In Hawaii.

No, Karofsky can still go to Hawaii.

What's that place? I need to go to...uh...MALAYSIA.

I hear it's nice there, on the states in Borneo, sunny and warm and Asian.

I might climb the tallest mountain in South East Asia in...uh...Sabah, is it called? Or see the biggest flower, the Rafflesia. Yeah I know that's right.

And they have excellent cloth there I heard.

So new plan:

I'll visit the warblers at Dalton the gay haven, then go to Malaysia for a vacation. Excellent.

**Homework:**

_World History, read pages 34-46 on English History._

**Tuesday, 9th November, 7:25 pm, Bedroom (closet)**

But what does one wear when one is spying on private school boys?

They have very nice uniforms, if the lovely male model I saw modeling the uniforms on Dalton's website is any indication. But I own nothing that's even similar.

It's like a suit.

And now I'm on the floor of my closet, surrounded by clothes and I don't even feel calm.

Yes, I know!

Normally, being engulfed in my designer outfits calms me down, even after the worst possible days at McKinley. But now...I feel like crying.

Nothing is going right today.

Nothing at all.

Maybe I should look up the Malaysian tickets like, now.

Wait a minute...

**Tuesday, 9th November, 8:17pm, Bedroom **

I found an old black trenchcoat.

I had to suck in my guts as I buttoned it up but it just about fits. Even though I can't hunch over in it.

Which might encourage good posture.

I had scoliosis as a child.

Which actually probably means I still have it, now that I think about it, seeing as how scoliosis doesn't just go away.

But it was very mild, the bend being almost miniscule.

But still.

Maybe I should crack open those yoga DVDs again...

Back to the outfit.

Paired with the leather pants I have and a red tie, I think I could pass as a student there. Or at least a new one who has no uniform yet.

Perfect.

**Wednesday, 10****th**** November, 9:06 am, Car park of Dalton**

I AM SKIPPING SCHOOL.

I feel so...so...bad. But in a good way. Can you be bad in a good way?

I think you can.

Now all I have to do is get out of the car.

That's right just open the door, hop out, and walk calmly and naturally up to the door and into the school.

The school is _grand. _It's so big and fancy and so private-school looking.

There isn't a peck of trash in the parking lot at all.

That's probably because only respectable young men come to this school. Unlike the _boys_ we have at McKinley.

Hmph.

So _posh _though.

So in we go.

Just- go on in.

KURT MOVE

….Now!

NOW!

Why am I so scared?

**Wednesday, November 10th , 12:12pm, Cafeteria at McKinley**

Well, shit.

That's all I can say.

**Wednesday, November 10th, 1:45pm, Calculus.**

I am very, very early.

Nobody is in here.

My spying must of sucked because I failed, big time.

I was discovered.

And my dear diary, in case you didn't know, being caught is the biggest screw up a spy could ever make because the whole point of spying is to not be caught.

No shit, Sherlock.

But honestly, I don't care.

Wanna know why?

I met a boy.

I was walking down the swirly, grand staircase, following the general flow of cute preppy boys, full of outwardly confident suave (inwardly shaking like a coward in my designer boots). So I decide maybe to state that I'm new so as to seem natural. Then, I tap the boy in front of me, not knowing that Apollo himself would turn around.

I melted.

"Hi," my mouth carried on without any orders from my brain.

Which was helpful, considering the only other times it does that is when I'm feeling particularly threatened and it automatically spouts of insulting comebacks. But those are for football players. And Karofsky. Not gods who christen the Earth.

"I'm new here."

"Hi, I'm Blaine."

_Blaine_.

"Kurt."

I really do not understand how I wasn't just standing there gawking at this beauty.

He had eyes like amber and honey and caramel and molten gold. Which was mixed together and then baked in Zues' oven.

Yes.

And hair that was gelled back but looked like it was curly.

And shoulders that indicated a rather well-toned body underneath the dress shirt and tie.

He was _gorgeous_.

And then he shook my hand.

A little _zing_ of electricity shot up my hand.

"So what exactly is going on here?" I managed to ask a semi-decent question.

"It's the Warblers," he said excitedly, I watched the way his lips formed each word. " every now and then they throw an impromptu performance and it tends to shut the school down for a while."

This was unbelievable. I hadn't been there for two minutes and I'd already found the Warblers.

Something didn't quite make sense though. "..._shuts the school down for a while"_

"The Glee Club here is kind of cool?" I asked, realizing what he had just said meant that-

"The Warblers are like rock stars."

_Oh._

The glee club there is like, popular.

What is this place?

But then, he said "Come on, I know a shortcut." And he took my hand and pulled me off the staircase.

Apollo was touching me.

He took it so naturally, like he wanted to.

At that point, I was having a stern conversation with myself in my head.

And people think I'm sane.

It's hilarious really.

I was telling myself that he was probably straight and _I don't even go to this school, for Christ's sake! _And I was probably setting myself up for disappointment.

Or so I thought.

Blaine turned out to be everything but a disappointment.

When we reached the Senior Commons, I discovered how much I did NOT blend in, good posture or not, "I stick out like a sore thumb."

He fixed my collar and clapped me on the shoulder, "Next time, don't forget your jacket new kid." I cringed inside.

And get this.

He sings.

The little liar got off telling me that the Warblers were rock stars and that they shut the school down, and all this time he was one of them.

Which means I was fraternizing with the enemy. I don't even regret that, because this "enemy" had been more welcoming to me than anyone in New Directions has been in a long time.

He wasn't no ordinary Warbler either, he was the lead singer.

He sang "Teenage Dream".

I ain't even kidding. He sang Katy Perry, smiling and looking at me the whole time. Which lead me to think...certain things and made my heart giva a pathetic sort of flip in my chest.

All too soon, the number ended. And Blaine wasn't kidding when he said they were famous. The Senior Commons exploded when the finished. And not with anger but with applause.

He was coming towards me, a genuine smile on his face. _For me._ And he took me by the elbow and steered me away, with two other boys following behind.

A flutter of panic started.

They figured it out.

The game was up.

They gave me coffee though. A latte.

Blaine introduced me to Wes and David, the head chair-people of the Warbler committee or something.

"It's very civilized of you to give me coffee before beating me up for spying." I said, playing the flattery card.

To my surprise however, they merely looked affronted.

"We aren't going to beat you up," Wes said.

"You were such a terrible spy, that we found it sort of...endearing."

The James Bond inside of me ruffled indignantly.

Then Blaine said, "Which leads us to think that spying wasn't the only reason you came."

He kind of had me there. They looked at me inquisitively.

So I asked, "Are you three all gay?" Only interested in Blaine's answer.

They all laughed and I felt the familiar sink of disappointment in my gut.

And then: "No, I mean I am but these two have girlfriends."

And that came from none other than Blaine's mouth.

Yes, he is gay. And probably taken. But I might have a gay friend. And if he's taken (which he probably is) then I'll have an _experienced _gay friend.

Win-win either way.

I smiled to myself, sipping my coffee.

David continued, "We just have a really good zero tolerance no bullying policy."

Well, that cleared up that mystery then.

I pretended that it was the first time I'd ever heard of that, even though I already new that this was a gay haven.

Wes added, "Everyone gets treated the same. No matter what they are."

Maybe it was the way he said it, making it sound so simple, when really it wasn't and I knew- know- how it feels to be treated unfairly. My vision started blurring, my throat getting tight.

'Would you guys excuse us?" Blaine said, his quiet voice echoing slightly in the thick silence.

They got up, saying quiet encouragements, and left the room, with just me and Blaine.

I tried to calm down, diary, really I did. But the more I thought about it the worse the tears got.

"I take it you're having trouble at school."

Oh, my dear Blaine, you have no idea.

And then the whole story came out.

I have to give Blaine credit though, he rarely interrupted and just listened, like really listened. And when I was finished, I felt really relieved, like a really heavy suffocating weight just hopped of my shoulders. I was probably carrying a llama on there. Or a llama circus. Whatever.

He didn't even flinch when I started crying.

Yeah. He smiled encouragingly and nodded.

And he got taunted at school too. Like me. He knew how I felt.

Nobody at McKinley, not even Mercedes or Tina fully understood all of it, they tried, they really did, but they aren't gay and-

It was nice. Nice to know I wasn't the only one fighting out there.

He gives good advice too.

He told me bluntly, which I appreciate, that I can either enroll here or...

Stand up. "Refuse to be the victim". Make some noise.

_Have courage._

_Courage. _Just like that, my world was flipped over. I had a new sense of invincibility and I felt like I actually...could.

Stand up for myself.

All I needed was that one little push, and here it was, in the presence of App- Blaine.

There's no way it was that simple.

But, you know what?

I'm willing to try.

And I got his number, we exchanged them before I left at around 11-ish. And the odd thing was that the whole time he was dictating it to me, I felt an odd sense of hope.

New plan:

Confront Karofsky the next time he shoves me into something sharp and metallic. And if that doesn't work out, take Blaine and flee to Malaysia. Sarawak, the land of the hornbill I discovered is quite a nice place. Considering there.

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**Reviews are beautiful things to me. Spydersphinx . tumblr . com**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox.**

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**Wednesday, November 10th, 2:35pm, In my sweet, sweet, fresh-smelling car**

Why do the halls of McKinley High smell like sweat and detergent? And all the mingling smells of BO and body spray make you feel like gagging.

I told Finn to tone down on the cologne. But noooo...he thinks Rachel _likes_ it. Even though I know for a fact that she chokes on it too. I can't even imagine getting close enough to kiss him.

...Well, I used to.

Imagined us kissing, I mean. But after the stunt he pulled in our basement, calling just about everything in my room faggy...well, you understand why I moved on. Pretty quickly too. Without, what I call, a rebound crush.

Yes.

A rebound crush is somebody that you crush on when you are attempting to forget about your previous crush. The rebound crush generally has nothing in common and is only someone you admire from afar. Normally it only lasts a week or two at most but is far, far more effective than other methods of getting-over-ness. So that you don't have any remaining feelings for the ex-crush.

Yes. It's very effective.

But Blaine isn't a rebound crush.

No.

...is he?

No, he isn't.

But what if he is?

HE ISN'T.

But-

SHUT UP BRAIN.

**Wednesday, 10th November, 2:57pm, Still in car that smells pine fresh**

But what if he is?

OH GOD OH GOD.

No, Blaine isn't a rebound crush. He isn't.

He is a crush, with very tiny, tiny feelings involved. I only met him today, I can't be that desperate to fall in love with the first gay male person I meet, now can I?

But...

Maybe to be safe, I'll acknowledge the crush feelings but not let them spin too much out of control first.

Just to make sure.

And if they are still there by...next Wednesday, then we can be quite sure that Blaine is a crush that we can take into consideration.

…not that I have feelings for Finn.

It's more of a precautionary step that must be taken.

Yes.

I'll just keep telling myself that.

It's time for glee now anyway.

**Wednesday, 10th November, 3:00pm, The Choir Room.**

There is no peace here.

Obviously I should be glared at by Karofsky, the hetero-king himself. No, it doesn't matter that other people have to walk down these halls too.

(Note the sarcasm dripping from my words)

Meh.

**Wednesday, 10th November, 3:15pm, The choir room.**

Wow.

The girls pulled of their number with quite a lot of flair. It was very entertaining.

But halfway through the performance, Blaine sent me a text.

YES HE SENT ME A TEXT.

All it said was _courage._

There's the lovely word right there. It's almost as if he knew what happened just now...

Gee, that's really odd.

**Thursday, 11th November, 7:06am, Bedroom, in bed.**

WAIT A SECOND.

What if Blaine and the Warblers decide that they should come to spy on the new Directions?

I must look my best.

Not that I need to impress him or anything...he has seen my cry, after all. Delicate crying, of course, I'm not quite ready to show him the snot fest, hysterical, bawling-out-of-eyes type sobbing that normally comes with The Notebook.

And Pride and Prejudice.

….

Oh my god, what am I saying?

Spying? On the New Directions?

Please. If they spied on The New Directions all they would find is a roomful of teenagers either a) cussing, b) screaming about how she should get the solo, c) making out, d) filing their nails or e) entertaining themselves by looking out the window in the choir room at the old people struggling with their grocery bags.

And besides, The Warblers are too gentlemanly for that. _Blaine_ is too gentlemanly for that.

Unless...

That's what they want us to think!

Ho ho, I know their secret plan.

Inception and all that crap.

Now, what should I wear...

**Thursday, 11th November, 8:26am, hallway of McKinley.**

The smell, I believe, is burning the hairs of my nostrils.

Ew.

Thank God it's Thursday.

So, what's up today, you might ask?

Lessons. In school.

Yes, I know you regret asking.

….I am pretending that a diary is real...

I am mentally unhinged from all the fear.

**Thursday, 11th November, 8:45am, French Classroom.**

I...

NGAH.

**Thursday, 11th November, 8:50am, French classroom.**

I don't know what to say.

Karofsky, he...he's...

He kissed me.

And not a oh-we're-cool-and-straight-guys-kiss-on-the-lips-like-it's-normal.

No, like full-frontal, teeth tongue and spit kiss.

Erlack.

My hands are shaking. And I can still smell that disgusting place.

OHMYGOD HE KISSED ME.

HE KISSED ME ON THE MOUTH.

HE STOLE MY FIRST KISS.

I feel faint, I think I might pass out.

WHY?

Is he gay? That would explain A LOT of things to me.

My whole body feels numb, even my words are suffering because I can't hold the pen properly.

I was standing outside my locker, keeping a sharp lookout for any familiar looking warbler faces, all innocently. I was also looking for the photo of me and Cedes at the fairground last year.

I wonder where that has gone.

But out of no where, for clearly no reason.

Karofsky shoved me into a locker.

And let me tell you, dear diary, that locker was _open_.

The sharp edge dug into my lower back and I felt what might have been splitting flesh. I could have started bleeding.

In fact, I probably am bleeding.

Yeah, I haven't checked the cut yet. I got distracted by worse things ok?

Anyway, remembering Blaine's advice, I suddenly exploded.

That's right. _Exploded._

Now normally, I never explode. But I have had it up to _here_ with this bullshit and I was going to put a stop to it. So I did what I should have done **years** ago.

_I went after him._

I chased him down that corridor and followed him into the boys' locker room.

The stench hit me like a lightning bolt.

I'm pretty sure the reeking smell of the locker room is embedded into my brain forever..

Oh God I can still smell it.

"What is your problem?" I shrieked at him.

All I saw, by now, was red.

"The girl's locker room is next door, homo." he said tensely.

Oh very witty, hardy har har.

Not.

I honestly, do not remember what I screamed after that. All I knew was that I had to beat him down. And seeing as how he was twice the size of me and both height and weight, I couldn't exactly wrestle him to the ground. So, I fought with my bitter, stinging words.

His eyes clouded over with something I couldn't identify then. And flickered back to their cold hard specks a moment later.

But now I know what it was, confusion. He was confused about his feelings.

His feelings about...me.

I think I might start hyperventilating.

He kept saying "Don't push me Hummel."

I should have listened.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED DAMNNIT.

Then he grabbed my face and kissed me.

He was going back for more, I could tell. But I pushed him a way.

And when realisation dawned on his features and with a moment of fear, he was out the door.

I really don't know how long I sat there.

But eventually I moved again, in a numb daze. To this classroom and here I am now.

Oh my god.

**Thursday, 11th November, 1:45pm, Bathroom.**

I had to wait till lunch to call Blaine.

I waited till lunch to call Blaine. Honestly.

Yes, I'm proud of me too for lasting that long.

But I couldn't get the story out for some reason.

I like, choked.

"Hello?"

"Blaine?"

"Oh hey Kurt. What's up? How're things at school?"

"I..."

"Kurt?"

"Can we meet for coffee?"

Yes, that is actually how it went.

I'm meeting him after school at the Lima Bean.

I have to wait another two hours.

Shoot me now.

**Thursday, 11th November, 2:00pm, Maths.**

Who the hell goes around kissing people they torment?

Who?

Why would you do that?

Time left till coffee with Blaine: 1 hour 45 minutes.

**Thursday, 11th November, 2:05pm, Maths.**

Oh sweet Jesus.

Laura is making out with Chris in front of me.

The heck.

It is normal for a girl to have such a flexible tongue.

Unless she belongs to the cirque du soleil.

She doesn't.

Yuck.

Time left till coffee with Blaine: 1 hour 40 minutes.

**Thursday, 11th November, 2:30pm, Maths.**

My, my.

Clearly the answer is 23x-4p-2, Miss.

Clearly.

This class is for idiots.

Time left till date: 1 hour 15 minutes.

**Thursday,11th November, 2:55pm, Maths.**

Let us go, let us go, let us go, let us go.

Dear GOD, woman, will you please just-

YES! THANK YOU.

**Thursday, 11th November, 3:05pm, Glee**

Nobody cares that I am clearly having a mental breakdown.

I not only just got kissed by my bully/molester, I am also possibly bleeding through a deep gash in my lower back from being shoved into a locker.

Surely, the stain is visible by now.

Though, I am wearing a couple of layers today...

But still, they should be able to sense that something is very, very wrong.

HMPH.

They're all too engrossed in their own lives that's why they don't see my pain.

Time till date: 40 minutes.

**Thursday, 11th November, 3:35pm, Glee.**

Glee has never been so damn boring.

Time left: 10 minutes.

**Thursday, 11th November, 4:00pm, Lima Bean.**

I bet he stood me up.

**Thursday, 11th November, 4:01pm, Lima Bean.**

Or he forgot.

**Thursday, 11th November, 4:03pm, Lima Bean.**

I bet he forgot, he's two minutes late.

Great, now everyone is gonna take one look at m,e and know that I have been stood up.

Now I'm just the sad, sad, gay boy who got stood up and is just sitting here awkwardly and doen't know what to do with himself because he's so alone and lost without his date who-

Oh never mind, he's here now.

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Reviews are awesome. spydersphinx. tumblr. com :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it belongs to Ryan Murphy**

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**Thursday, 11th November, 4:45pm, The Lima Bean **

Blaine has gone to the bathroom.

I must get this all down on paper before I die of love for this boy.

So there I was, having a minor (major) mental breakdown about the possibility that I had been stood up, and my entire tragic life following that one moment, and trying not to hyperventilate while staring down at the table.

And suddenly, there is this voice.

A voice I am all too familiar with.

"Why are you sitting there, looking so forever alone?"

I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm not forever alone." I replied with a mock glare, which failed miserably when the corners of my mouth twitched upwards.

"Yeah you are."

"I'm just...temporarily alone." I replied.

Let us take a moment to admire the genius comeback.

Even you must admit that this is really good, for my horribly useless mouth that is.

Ok, done.

So, Blaine is holding a tray with two coffees and a cinnamon bun.

To _share_.

Do you see this?

So we sit down and make small talk while shoving the warm, sugary, _fattening_ cinnamon bun down our throats. We talk about global warming (he is super concerned), our favourite actresses (Helena Bonham Carter is his), and Dalton Academy (though he stops after a while to remark that I still am a suckish spy, jokingly.)

The dweeb.

Then, shit got real.

"So what's the real reason behind this date? You sounded pretty upset on the phone."

My heart exploded when he said the word 'date'.

I contemplated just saying nothing about the kiss, just saying that it wasn't important or try flirting with him, saying that I just wanted to see him or something.

You know, "I just _had_ to see your _gorgeous _face again." And everything would be black and white and I would be in a British accent and then his eyes would go disturbingly dark with lust or romance and he'd sweep me up and-

Ahem.

But I didn't.

Because, he could tell that I was upset over the phone.

And brilliant actor that I am, even I couldn't pull off such desperate urgency.

Over the phone.

In real life, I could probably pull it off.

ENOUGH WITH THE INTERUPTIONS, BRAIN.

Blaine will only take so long in there.

Ok, I told him the story about the kiss.

Disgusting though it was, he didn't even flinch.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." he said.

"It's not your fault, Blaine."

"But nobody deserves that," he said, "Nobody. And certainly not somebody as special as you."

He was looking at me with a strange look. I was trying to figure out what it was but I still haven't got it. The closest I have come so far to deciding what it was is a mix of pity, sincerity and general sadness.

Yeah, there's no word for that.

Bitter as I am, I said, "But that's the thing isn't it Blaine? These things happen to people like us all the time."

He started to protest but I cut his beautiful voice off, "I mean not forced kisses, in fact, it probably never happens because seriously," a harsh chuckle, "what are your chances of having a bully who is secretly gay and like _perving_ after you come and kiss you, slam his fist into a locker and then later leave."

I took a shaky breath.

"I mean, bad things happen to gay kids all over the place because there is so much _hate_ just….all over the place and they say it gets better, but does it really? Because it hasn't gotten better for me, things have been getting worse and this is just the sick, twisted, deformed cherry on top. And I'm just really _exhausted_, Blaine"

Then, silence.

I'm pretty sure I just went off rambling about everything under the blue moon, didn't I?

But that apparently wasn't enough for my freaking mouth to just stop.

No.

I added, oh so very helpfully, "McKinley High hallways smell really bad."

Pause.

Here's the real kicker.

"What does Dalton smell like?"

I know.

Excuse me, I'm going to hit my head on the door repeatedly for several hours until my brain leaks out through my eyes.

To my extreme relief however, Blaine let out a small chuckle.

"Just so you know, Dalton smells like coffee and boys."

"Not rainbows and unicorns?"

"No"

"….but coffee and boys are my two favourite things."

I'm sorry, but I don't appear to have a filter around Blaine.

Another bubbly laugh that sounded so _sinful._

"As for your other little speech…."

I sighed.

"It's true."

My head snapped up, "What?"

"It's true," he repeated calmly. "I won't deny it, but there are things that make up for the pain and bitterness."

"….Well…?"

He leaned in real close and beckoned me to follow suit, looking around like he was diverging a sacred secret to the cure for cancer.

I felt his coffee breath on my cheek as he said….

"Boys"

And then I started laughing like a lunatic and the whole shop was staring but it was okay, because Blaine was doing the same thing.

Then, he left for the bathroom.

And now we're here.

It's amazing how fast I have fallen for this kid.

Even though he is shorter than me.

Ah the little hobbit.

He's adorable.

**Thursday, 11th November, 7:30pm, Kitchen.**

Chicken's in the oven. Organic.

Bread's on the table. Wholegrain.

Fresh fruit in the fridge. Chillin'

Excellent.

Now for some diary time.

Maybe I should follow suit with the lady from "Eat. Pray. Love" and have conversations with myself.

Let's give it a go.

"Kurt, what are your intentions with Blaine?"

"Why you talking in a British accent, partner?"

"I suppose I'm the rational side and you're the hillbilly side."

"Ya'll don't make any sense now."

Ok this is weird.

But anyway, the chicken still has half an hour, I might as well.

"Intentions for Blaine?"

"I like him, I think he's pretty."

"Besides that though, don't you find him adorable and sweet and kind and caring and such a gentleman and so smart and he sings, Kurt he sings like a dream."

"Yeah that too."

"You like him?"

"I just said so"

"In that case, I see we're on the same side."

"Kurt, we are the same person."

"Why'd you lose the accent?"

"I guess I'm rational too."

"Hmmm…touché"

Interesting….

It seems that I like Blaine.

But we already knew that I guess.

It also appears that I should be in a mental institution.

This game is oddly soothing, but addling my brains.

Maybe Sudoku is better for killing time.

And probably healthier.

You know, for my mentality.


End file.
